Page 80 of Gilded Princess

That’s all these assholes care about—keeping the five families bloodline pure. What a load of shit.

“No.”

I grind my molars, fucking livid with myself for opening my mouth to begin with. There’s only one person I ever wanted to entertain the idea of marriage with. And I’ll kill every last one of them before I ever willingly give them her name.

“Not Italian? Who is this broad?” Vitale goads.

“What’s her name, son?” Dad asks.

I stare at him and shrug. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Dad stares at me, his face unreadable. Five years ago, I might’ve caved under the threat of violence that stare promises. But not anymore. I give him my best blank expression back, a big fuck you if there ever was one.

“What are we doing for Sal Bianchi?” Dominic Marino asks, breaking the standoff between my father and me.

While I’m glad someone finally brought it up, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. I can feel it in my bones.

Two seconds later, my phone vibrates, indicating a call. I let it go to voicemail. Only emergencies allow for answering calls during a family meeting.

The incessant vibration from my phone ringing nonstop dances on my already fried nerves.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dante slip his phone from his pocket and discretely check it. The hair on the back of my neck stands up at the coincidence.

His eye twitches twice, which is akin to screaming for anyone else not in a room with the five deadliest families. I quickly scan the room to make sure no one caught that. Not that I expect them to, they’re a bunch of lazy motherfuckers who have their soldiers do all the dirty work. Most of them wouldn’t know how to read a man if their life depended on it.

Dante steps forward and leans down, and in the quietest voice barely above a whisper, says, “Problem at Monroe. Code black.”

I nod to him once, so he knows I heard him. Inside, I’m fucking shaking and sweating, but outside, I’m cool and calm.

Five agonizing minutes later, Dad dismisses the meeting, and Dante and I casually make our way out of the basement of the seedy strip club located in the middle of nowhere.

Dad has an uncanny knack for sniffing shit out, and I don’t have time to pander to his ego tonight.

There’s been a break-in at my apartment.

Chapter Thirty-One

MADDIE

Leo slides his hand in mine, linking our fingers together. Tingles race up my arm and settle around my heart, warming some of my earlier fear. The elevator ride is quick, and then we’re walking down the hall toward Matteo’s apartment. There are only two penthouse apartments on this floor, both of them two stories. The hallway is decorated in soft grays, almost as if it’s part of the apartments themselves. I idly wonder what the other penthouse apartment looks like, if it’s a mirror copy of Matteo’s or something totally different. Dante said someone lives there, but I haven’t seen them, not that I’ve left Matteo’s place until today.

A Victorian-era painting of a man hangs on the wall next to me, and I get the same creepy vibes like I did from the paintings at The Grasshopper.

It’s always the eyes. They feel like they’re following me.

I bump into Leo’s arm, too caught up in side-eyeing the painting. “Oh, sorry,” I say on a reflex, wrapping my free hand around his bicep to stop my stumble. My voice trails off and my steps slow when I see the open apartment door. “Did you forget to close the door?”

“No.” He shakes his head, his voice low and hard.

My adrenaline spikes, my heart rate increasing. Something crashes, the sound sharp. It frays on my already tender nerves, and I jump, squeezing Leo’s hand.

“Stay behind me, yeah?” With a hand on my arm, he guides me behind him, forcing me to let go of his bicep. I tighten my grip on his hand, staying a half step behind him.

Our footsteps are quiet on the plush carpet, but the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears is loud. I quietly exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding as we approach the door.

Leo squeezes my hand once. I’m not sure if it’s a warning or encouragement, but I tighten my hold nonetheless.

Another crash rips through the air, the shrill sound of glass breaking followed by male voices.

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